


Never Annoy the Warden

by nihlus



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihlus/pseuds/nihlus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt; In the land of DA:O, the Warden has the ultimate power - s/he chooses what armour goes onto who. So technically, the Warden could just get characters to run around Denerim in their smallclothes like a raving lunatic. Punishment + this weird ability = this.</p><p>While the fic was written with fem!Tabris, you could always switch it with any other Warden you like, really.</p><p>Rated for the swearing, but apart from that, not much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Annoy the Warden

This was not good.

Making sure to keep his lower body submerged in the water, he turned around to look for the usually-there armour. It wasn't. Not even a cloth to dry himself off. The only clothes that were there were some smallclothes, and attempting to run across camp in said smallclothes to find his armour was going to be embarrassing to say the least.

Wading to the bank on the other side of the lake, he searched for anything that could potentially cover him up as he ran back to get his armour, he sighed. Nothing. Not even a large enough leaf. He flicked the top of the water with his fingers in irritation. She might not be able to hear him, but it was worth a shot.

"Lyna!" Alistair yelled. He knew she held onto the armour for everyone, and she always left armour for him by the lake, along with a cloth to dry himself off. She was the one who assigned who wore what, and she'd never forgotten to return anyone's armour before.

But she must have remembered; the smallclothes were here...oh for the love of- they weren't even _his_ smallclothes. Alistair looked around him in further desperation, and continued to shout for her. Once the fifth shout didn't have a response, he started to think. Properly. People always told him that he could be intelligent if he tried.

Bodhan and Sandal weren't around and thus he couldn't loan some clothes off them. Sten was out with Leliana and Shale to get food. _Mmm food. Hopefully there isn't any smashed pigeon this time._ Oghren was probably unconscious by the fire, drunk, and hopefully not choking on his own vomit. Wynne was out with Zevran and Fen'harel, using them to hold the firewood just a few hundred metres away from the campsite.

That left Morrigan and Lyna.

Alistair couldn't help but slap his forehead in frustration. There was no other choice but to run across to her tent from the water, stark naked. Wearing the smallclothes was not an option. "For the love of Andraste, they're pink. And frilly," he muttered under his breath, throwing them down upon further inspection. Continued shouting for Lyna garnered no success. Alistair could just picture her sitting near the fire, using the whetstone to sharpen her daggers and basically, enjoying this little punishment she seemed to have set out for him. That left just Morri-

Nope. Not an option. Asking her for help was like asking her to be kind. Can't be done, never will be. Complete and utter _bitch_.

Pulling himself out of the water, he sighed. This was going to be hard. As he stood up, feeling himself grow cold being stark naked, he couldn't help but be horribly reminded of a previous conversation with Morrigan...

"And if you had not been recruited? What would have happened, instead?"

"I would have turned into a drooling lunatic," he remembered rolling his eyes as he said this, "slaughtered the grand cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my smallclothes, I guess." Oh, if she could see him now.

No wait. Scratch that. No. She'd better be in her little corner in the camp, not looking up as he ran across. No.

There was no time like the present. Taking the honestly revolting smallclothes and attempting to cover what he can, he took a deep breath. Repeating this a few times, he closed his eyes.

And charged.

\----

She couldn't stop herself from smiling, and attempting to cover up the fact that she was laughing at his antics wasn't working either.

Rescuing Alistair from the canvas of Leliana's tent when he tripped over Oghren (who was, as she suspected, passed out near the fire) was just too amusing. She stood there as he flailed about with the canvas tangled in his legs and arms, her hands holding his washcloth with a smirk on her face. As she peeled the sheet off him, she couldn't help but burst out laughing as he looked at her in wonderment, his face bright red for seeing him in his...state. Tossing him the washcloth, he quickly grabbed it and wrapped it around his waist, his eyes evidently asking her why she had decided on that 'punishment'.

Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, her eyes looked at her tent, just nearby with a warm bedroll. His gaze followed hers, and, if possible, blushed even harder. Helping him up, she pulled him towards her tent. As they settled inside, she blew out the candle, letting his arms take her to bed with ignited passion.

Leliana's tent of course, lay forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic request from liquoricecharms, who wanted a bit of crack written in the world of DA.
> 
> First time writing crack, since most of the time I write either angsty, or just general fluffy fics. Any reviews + comments would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> <3, flawedconcerto.


End file.
